


Apartment 309

by SittingInACoffeeShop



Series: December Prompt List [2]
Category: Sinister (Movies), The Skeleton Twins (2014)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, December Fanfic Challenge, Depression, Eggnog, Ex Deputy So and So has an actual name, Ex Deputy So and So is a Sweetheart, For reasons, Hopeful Ending, Milo Dean Has Mental Health Issues, Milo Dean Needs a Hug, Not Canon Compliant, Pre-Relationship, Prompt Fic, Prompt Fill, Rare Pairings, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, and it's Samuelson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:13:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27907276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SittingInACoffeeShop/pseuds/SittingInACoffeeShop
Summary: “My name’s Milo.”“Milo. Huh...” Sam nodded.“I know. My mom clearly thought she was giving birth to a Terrier rather than an actual person, so...”Sam laughed again. Milo smiled too, looking down at the floor a bit bashfully.They fell into another weird silence, though this time it was a tad more comfortable.“Well, hey, uh...I was just drinking some eggnog at my place if you want to...”December Prompt ListDay 2: Eggnog
Relationships: Milo Dean & Deputy So and So, Milo Dean and Ex Deputy So and So
Series: December Prompt List [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2041454
Comments: 7
Kudos: 8





	Apartment 309

**Author's Note:**

> Another belated fic from the December Prompt List. 
> 
> In case anyone hasn’t seen “The Skeleton Twins” (though you really should, it’s one of my favorite movies) the song in the beginning of this fic is the same as the one in the movie: “Denise” by Randy & The Rainbows
> 
> **Please, please, please heed the tags for this fic and make your best guess on whether you need to check out the TWs. I always include TWs in the end notes, so this is nothing new, but I don't EVER want my work to be triggering for anybody <3**

_Oh, Denise,_ _shooby_ _doo_

 _I'm in love with you, Denise,_ _shooby_ _doo_

_I’m in love with you_

Milo trudged through his cluttered apartment, downing a bottle of vodka as he went. He attempted to sway to the music a couple times but ended up not quite feeling it.

What was the point in pretending to be happy? No one was around. He didn’t have to worry about making anyone uncomfortable with his low mood or self-deprecating behavior.

No, there wasn’t any point in pretending. He _wasn’t_ happy. He was fucking miserable.

_Denise, Denise, oh, with your eyes so blue_

_Denise, Denise, I’ve got a crush on you_

_Denise, Denise, I’m so in love with you_

Milo grabbed a picture frame that held a photograph of he and his now ex-boyfriend. They looked so happy. _He_ looked so happy.

What a crock of shit.

He dropped the frame into the fish tank.

_Oh, when we walk, it seems like paradise_

_And when we talk, it always feels so nice_

_Denise, Denise, I’m so in love with you_

Milo shuffled into the tiny kitchenette. There were dishes piled high in the sink that he had intended to clean, but then the whole conversation with his boyf... _ex-_ boyfriend happened and...now he knew he wouldn’t get to them for about another week. Maybe more. Maybe never.

It was a little gross, he knew. To just have dirty dishes with old food sitting in the sink.

But, hell, he himself was also just...an overall gross, disgusting human being.

So what the fuck did it matter? It was fitting.

Milo pulled a knife from the utensil drawer. It was the knife he typically used to slice avocados and fruit. And it would work for this.

It would work for this.

_When you smile it’s like a dream_

_And I'm so lucky ‘cause I found a girl like you_

Milo dragged his fingers along his cellphone that lay neglected on the coffee table.

He didn’t think to text anyone, because frankly, who would really care?

Though, there was a fleeting thought...a name...that almost made him drop the knife.

Maggie.

He should text Maggie.

No. Fuck that. Why would she care? He hadn’t talked to his twin sister in ten years. Not since she...

Milo vehemently shook his head and walked away.

He turned the music up even louder.

_Oh Denise,_ _shooby_ _doo_

 _I'm in love with you, Denise_ _shooby_ _doo_

_I'm in love with you_

Milo stripped himself of his clothes, stumbling a bit as his ankle got caught in one of the legs of his pants.

 _Fuck_ he was drunk.

That was good though. It would make this go faster.

Maybe.

He ran a hot bath. Hotter than what he was used to. He didn’t want it to cool at all while he was still coherent enough to feel it.

Milo sat on the edge of the tub. It was cold on his bare ass but he didn’t really care.

He stared at himself in the mirror. His dejected face stared right back at him.

He looked bone-tired. He felt it too.

The faucet squeaked as he shut the water off. Steam was swirling off the surface, and he slumped down into it, leaving only his shoulders, head, and part of his chest out and dry. The surface of the water was only an inch from the lip of the tub.

Milo breathed hard in anxious anticipation. He stared up at the white ceiling, fiddling with the knife that he was allowing to rest on the floor of the bath. The blade lightly scraped against his thigh, providing no more than a tickle as opposed to the sharp stab it was intended for.

He gripped the handle of the knife and pressed the sharp tip against his wrist...applying more pressure than he initially believed would be necessary.

The blood began creeping out from his skin, blooming like ink in the water.

_Denise, Denise, oh won’t you hold me tight_

_Denise, Denise, oh can we kiss goodnight_

_Denise, Denise, I’m so in love with you_

He gasped and stopped, grabbing onto his wrist and holding it firmly against his chest.

He couldn’t do it.

He had always been a pretty sensitive to pain. He had hoped that the alcohol would numb it for this. But it wasn’t enough.

Milo let out a shaky sigh, face contorting as he tried not to cry.

He was so pathetic.

The bottle of vodka still sat in the living room, and he debated fetching it so he could down the rest of it. Maybe then he could at least slip into oblivion, or at least attempt to numb all physical feeling even further.

Though, he feared he would lose all his nerve if he got out of the water. So he stayed.

Milo gripped the edges of the tub, like he was on a rollercoaster and the cars were slowly going up, up, up closer to its apex...and in a few seconds, he would experience the stomach-plummeting drop.

The water was cooling fast.

Too fast.

He took a deep breath and turned the hot water on again.

_Oh Denise,_ _shooby_ _doo_

 _I'm in love with you, Denise_ _shooby_ _doo_

Milo sank further into the tub until his head was completely submerged.

The hot water bit at his sensitive, cold skin. He always did get cold rather easily. So he fully welcomed the heated water as it shrouded him like a comforting blanket.

He was a pretty tall guy, so he couldn’t stretch out in the tub as much as he would like. Instead, he opted to curl up on his side as though he were simply going to bed.

He closed his eyes.

Maybe if he could just...go to sleep.

Maybe he could do this by simply going to sleep.

_I’m in love with you, Denise_ _shooby_ _doo_

_I'm in love with you, Denise_

Simple. Easy.

Although he knew he didn’t deserve it, he would allow himself such a kindness one last time.

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

Sam growled in frustration. He was trying to drink a nice cold glass of eggnog over a newly released book by his favorite crime author, but he couldn’t focus.

Not with his neighbor blaring music like he owned the place.

It was so incredibly inconsiderate and it was starting to really piss him off. Especially when, a few seconds later, the heavy bass from the speakers got even louder as the neighbor turned the music up even more.

There were people trying to _sleep._ Some of the apartment tenants had _kids._ It was pretty baffling to him how selfish some people could be.

Enough was enough. He was going to give this guy a piece of his mind.

Sam threw the covers off his body and got out of bed. He slid his feet into a pair of slippers.

He marched down the hallway, though he wasn’t exactly sure which neighbor it was. Not that it was hard to figure out.

Apartment 309.

It was the only apartment with a door that was about to vibrate off its hinges.

Only, now that he was actually _there_ at this stranger’s door, he felt his anger ebb away a bit. He was still pissed off, sure, but now that he was there with his fist held up to the door, he wondered if maybe there was an explanation behind this. An explanation deeper than merely an inconsiderate prick acting like a Freshman Fraternity pledge.

Maybe the guy wasn’t even home and his cat had somehow pressed enough buttons on the stereo to blare the music. Maybe there was faulty wiring that somehow caused the music to blare at midnight on a Wednesday.

Sam shook his head. He knew those were ridiculous possibilities, but something just felt...wrong.

He could feel a distressing aura emanating from the apartment. It was enough to make him pause and second-guess his anger and what he was doing.

This was one of the many reasons he had quit the police force after only three months holding a badge. Fellow officers would scold him for thinking too much and giving others the benefit of the doubt a little too often. After only a few short months, he’d decided they were right. It was not his calling.

The ex-deputy knocked loudly on the door.

No answer. Not even any footsteps.

He banged harder on the door.

“Hey!” an angry voice shouted from a couple doors down.

Sam startled and turned to see a grumpy older man in stained white socks and a bath robe that looked like it had been around since the 1800s.

“That prick playing the music, he your roommate?”

He was glaring at Sam like it was this was his fault.

“Uh, no...he’s uh...I don’t know who lives here. I was just gonna see if he could, y’know...keep it down,” Sam explained.

“Well, tell him he’s gonna receive a fist to the face if he doesn’t shut the hell up,” the older guy snapped, adjusting the old, worn robe that had begun to loosen off his body a rather concerning amount.

“Right. Will do,” Sam replied awkwardly with a nod.

The guy went back inside his apartment and slammed the door.

Just what the apartment complex needed, _more_ noise.

Sam lifted his fist to knock on the door again, but the music stopped.

He let out a relieved sigh. Maybe the guy got the hint. Maybe Sam wouldn’t have to confront him after all.

As he began to walk away though, the music began blaring again.

“I’M GONNA KILL THAT SON OF A BITCH!”

Sam winced as the loud voice of the angry man could be heard clearly through the wall. He also felt some concern over this mystery guy’s well-being, which was strange considering he had no idea who he was.

In a split second decision, Sam was twisting the doorknob. He wasn’t expecting it to be unlocked. Not really. So when the door actually opened, his eyes widened...as though he were no longer in control of how he was handling the situation.

He peered inside.

“Hello?”

No response.

Sam stepped inside and shut the door behind him.

Aretha Franklin’s “Chain of Fools” blasted throughout the apartment, having replaced whatever other old song had been playing before.

Sam walked slowly forward.

Turning off the music was his first order of business, and it didn’t take long to spot the stereo system.

He walked past a large fish tank filled with five fat goldfish. They swam around a picture frame that sat at the bottom of the tank.

That was a little odd.

Sam continued walking, expecting to become face-to-face with the tenant any second, but as he made his way across the apartment, he saw no sign of anyone. Though, he didn’t miss the nearly-empty bottle of vodka sitting on the coffee table, lid nowhere to be found.

Sam pressed the pause button on the stereo and the apartment fell into a deafening silence.

He gulped.

“Hello?” he tried again.

Once again, no answer, but he could hear running water.

Assuming all of the apartments had remotely the same layout, he walked in the direction of the bathroom. His feet moved as though they no longer belonged to him. He really didn’t know why he was doing this. It just seemed like something he had to do. It felt necessary.

The bathroom door was closed and water was creeping out from underneath.

Panic coursed through him, causing the idea that what he was doing was so horribly invasive to be pushed aside.

He didn’t know who lived here, but something just felt very, very wrong.

He opened the door, ignoring the nasty sloshing of his slippers as they quickly became soaked.

He didn’t have to walk more than a single step to tell that someone was in the bathtub completely underneath the water. They weren’t moving.

And if that didn’t cause more panic to course through him, the kitchen knife haphazardly tossed to the side sure did.

Oh shit, oh fuck. What now? _What now?_

Sam looked around, lifting his hands in a way as though something, _anything_ would be able to help him. Finally, he took a deep breath and charged forward.

He knew CPR. He'd had to learn it in order to join the police force.

Sam turned off the water, and he was ready to pull this man clear out of the tub and onto the floor, but before he could even reach in...the guy burst out of the water himself, gasping and sputtering.

Sam screamed in surprise and fell back onto his butt with a splash.

“What the _fuck?!”_ the guy exclaimed, frantically wiping water from his eyes. “What the fuck are- wh-who the fuck are _you?”_

“I’m-I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Sam stood up from the floor, holding his hands up in an attempt to show that he meant no harm.

The guy shuffled against the back of the tub as though trying to retreat through it somehow. He kept his bloodshot eyes trained on Sam, watching his every move.

“What the fuck are you doing in my apartment?!”

“I was- I was just…your music.”

“ _What?”_ the guy spat testily.

“It was…it was loud, and I…” Sam was babbling, but he couldn’t help it.

This situation had _already_ looked really bad, and it still was, but for a whole other reason. Because _now_ Sam was just some guy who had broken into his neighbor’s apartment and creepily watched him in the bath.

And he really, _really_ hoped this guy didn’t call the cops. It would be so embarrassing being arrested by the guys he used to work with. The same guys that had scorned him for not being “tough” enough to be a cop. The same guys that had said he only got in because his grandfather used to be the police chief of that precinct.

He would be mortified. And he really didn’t think he could handle any more mortification that night

“You broke into my apartment so you could turn my music down?” the guy squinted at him.

“Well, no, not necessarily…” Sam replied awkwardly. “I figured something was wrong so I…your door was unlocked.”

The guy in the tub stared at him.

“I’m sorry…I live down the hall,” Sam continued, angling his thumb over his shoulder.

The guy continued staring.

“I’ll just go. I’m sorry, again-“

“So you broke in to see if I was okay?” the guy asked, voice dropping from anger to something indistinct.

“I…yeah, I guess. Something just felt…wrong, and I felt like I needed to be sure that you were okay? I guess?”

“You don’t even know me,” the guy said accusingly.

“I know.”

Sam wasn’t sure what else to say.

The guy in the tub looked down for a few seconds, looking as though he were in deep thought.

Even in the chaos, Sam hadn’t forgotten about the bottle of vodka in the living room. He also hadn’t failed to notice the slur to the guy’s voice.

Sam wondered if the guy would even remember any of this.

“Can you get me some clothes?” the stranger murmured suddenly.

“What?”

“Well, I’m _naked_ and...since you turned off my hot water...I’ma little cold. So...”

Sam stared incredulously at him.

But before he knew it, he was in the guy’s bedroom sifting through his drawers for a dry set of clothes. He settled on a pair of gray sweatpants and a soft burgundy t-shirt with some band’s logo on the front. He placed them on the back of the toilet and rushed back out of the bathroom.

As the guy got dressed, Sam stood awkwardly in the living room. Sam shivered, his soaking wet pajama pants making him cold.

He looked around from his solitary spot, not wanting to walk around too much. He had already invaded on his privacy.

Still, he felt like he needed to do _something._

He went to the kitchen and retrieved some hand towels so he could begin sopping up the water outside the bathroom.

He was still crouched down when the guy he had “saved” came out, fully dressed and looking completely exhausted. He also looked confused. No doubt because Sam was still there.

Sam awkwardly looked up at the guy, who was staring down at with an expression like he had just eaten something sour. He was holding his wrist, which was bandaged with white gauze.

“Hey, man, you don’t have to...y’know...” he said, stepping around him like he was simply a dog that refused to move. “I’m good now. I just got too drunk and fell asleep.”

Sam stood up from the floor. “Where I’m from, that’s not the meaning of ‘good.’”

There was a flicker of what could’ve been a smile. “Yeah? And where are you from?”

”Down the hall.”

“Mhm...well, thank you for breaking into my apartment, I guess. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you, you saved my life, and all that...”

The guy said it mockingly, waving his hand around in a lazy, dramatic fashion.

Sam furrowed his eyebrows.

This guy was a mess, and...a little rude.

Yet, he stayed.

He cared for this guy, though he had no idea why. There was just something about him that made him care.

“Well, I’m glad I did,” Sam blurted, and the guy looked at him strangely. “What I mean is, I’m glad you’re still here.”

“You don’t even know me,” he replied with a dry sort of chuckle.

“I know.”

They fell into an awkward, heavy silence. The guy had shifted into a slouched posture, arms crossed and looking like he wanted to disappear under Sam’s stare. Sam had a feeling that this was nothing new though. That this guy always held himself in a sort of defensive, self-conscious way.

“But I feel like...” Sam drifted off, words that said he cared still lingering on his tongue but feeling a bit too premature. “My name is Samuelson.”

“Samuelson?” the guy sounded it out, raising his eyebrows as though he didn’t quite believe that was his real name.

“Sam for short. Or, as my schoolmates and coworkers called me...So and So.”

“So and So?”

“Yep. ‘That So and So kid’ or...’Deputy So and So,’” he chuckled a bit, although the nickname had actually really bothered him. “Or, well, guess it’s _Ex-_ Deputy So and So now, but...anyway, guess it was easier than remembering my real name.”

He was rambling again, but the guy didn’t seem to care. It actually looked like the nicknames bothered him too. He furrowed his eyebrows and nodded.

“Well, I have had my fair share of shitty nicknames too, so I’m going to call you Sam. Maybe Sammy. Calling you ‘So and So’ seems like kind of an asshole move...and that’s _coming_ from a real asshole.”

”You don’t seem like that much of an asshole.”

The guy raised his eyebrows, corner of his mouth turning up into a half-smile, “Stay tuned.”

Sam smiled and chuckled for real this time. He liked this guy, and he didn’t even know his name.

“Milo,” the guy said as though he had read his mind. “My name’s Milo.”

“Milo. Huh...” Sam nodded.

“I know. My mom clearly thought she was giving birth to a Terrier rather than an actual person, so...”

Sam laughed again. Milo smiled too, looking down at the floor a bit bashfully.

They fell into another weird silence, though this time it was a tad more comfortable.

“Well, hey, uh...I was just drinking some eggnog at my place if you want to...”

Milo didn’t need anymore alcohol, but Sam wasn’t sure what else to offer in order to entice him to come over. It was weird…inviting over a complete stranger. But Sam knew he needed to keep an eye on him. The knife on the bathroom floor combined with the fresh gauze on Milo’s wrist made it easy to piece the situation together. Everything about Milo screamed for help.

And, for whatever reason, Sam was willing to provide it.

Much to his surprise, Milo actually looked like he was considering the offer, “Well, I’ve never said no to a cute guy offering me liquor before, so why start now?”

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

Sam was grateful to be back in his own apartment, though he kicked himself when he realized he had left a candle burning by the bed.

“Nice place,” Milo commented, feeling a little ashamed about how his own place had looked in comparison.

“Thanks,” Sam smiled. “I’m going to go change because I’m like…really wet. Mugs are in the cabinet over the sink, and the eggnog is in the fridge in a clear, glass pitcher. Help yourself.”

“Uh, thanks,” Milo said awkwardly.

This was weird. Like, really weird. He was drunk, sure. But Milo typically only went to a stranger’s apartment when completely _hammered._ And it usually ended up with getting laid. Or at least a sloppy make-out session. 

Sam clearly wasn’t interested in that kind of thing though. For one thing, he wasn’t gay. Or at least, Milo didn’t think he was. For another, Sam obviously just felt bad for him. Gotta “help” the pathetic alcoholic down the hall and all that. When in reality, this would just be a one time thing to make himself feel better.

Not that Milo could blame him. Milo wouldn’t want to hang out with himself either.

Milo took a sip of the cold, creamy beverage and had to hold back a moan.

 _Fuck,_ this eggnog that was _super fucking good._

“Like it?” Sam smiled as he reentered.

“Mmm, mm’fucking _shit_ this is good,” Milo hummed. “This is the best thing I’ve ever tasted.”

Sam’s smile widened. “I’ll pass the compliment on to my mother.”

“Shit, your mom lives here?” Milo lowered the mug, foam on his upper lip.

“What? No. No, it’s just me,” Sam said. “It’s just her recipe.”

“Oh, okay good,” Milo said, obvious relief in his voice.

Sam’s forehead creased as his eyebrows furrowed a bit. Milo slightly panicked.

“No, no…not because, like…not because I’m trying to come onto you or anything,” Milo said, trying to save the conversation from going into weird territory.

This evening had been weird enough already.

“I just…I’m the weird guy down the hall that listens to music too loud, y’know? Not really the guy to bring home to your mother,” Milo laughed, and then realized what he’d just said. 

Shit, why couldn’t he ever just _shut up?_

 _“_ N-not that…not that I thought that’s what you were doing. Just that…I mean because obviously you’re only doing this to be nice and…and you’re not gay, so like-“

“What?” Sam tilted his head.

“Sorry. I’m drunk. I’m babbling. Ignore me,” Milo closed his eyes and shook his head, willing for this conversation to go back to normal. Or, at least, a semblance of normal.

“I’m not doing this because I feel bad for you,” Sam shook his head. “I’m…I just wanted to.”

Milo stared at him, trying to determine if he actually believed him. Sam had soft, doe eyes that seemed to go deeper than the depths of the ocean. He had the cutest dimples that deepened every time he smiled. His face looked so soft. Milo wanted to touch it.

Damn, how had he not known such a hottie cutie was living on his floor?

“Also, I’m…I’m Bi, actually,” Sam stated.

Hold up.

What?

“What?” Milo blurted aloud.

Sam just nodded, going over to pour himself a new mug of eggnog. The one he’d been sipping on in his room was undoubtedly room temperature by now.

“Yep,” he replied casually, popping the ‘p.’

It took him a long time to get to the point of admitting this fact about himself. To get to the point where he actually felt confident about saying it. He had recognized that he was probably bisexual as a senior in high school, and then he spent three years of college denying it, then finally he was able to admit it a year after dropping out. He told his mom first, then his dad, then his brother and sister. From there, it just came natural for him to speak it out loud.

“Well, shit,” Milo stated a bit too loudly, more buzz finding its way into his brain. “Where the fuck have you been my whole life?”

Sam breathed out a laugh through his nose around the eggnog in his mouth.

“Don’t know,” he shrugged. “Down the hall waiting for you to blare your music, I guess.” 

That was a stupid thing to say.

Milo sucked in a breath and unconsciously gripped his wrapped wrist again.

Sam cleared his throat. “Uh, sorry...more eggnog?”

“Sure,” Milo said a bit distantly. “And what the fuck are you sorry for? I’m the one that...”

He drifted off. He wasn’t sure whether he wanted to thank him or not. He wasn’t yet sure if he was happy that the handsome stranger down the hall broke into his apartment to “rescue” him. He just didn’t know. What he _did_ know, though, was that he felt weirdly warm and comfortable around him.

And he hadn’t felt that in a long, long time.

“Thanks,” Milo said.

He was thanking him for the refill on the eggnog. Nothing more.

Though, maybe it could be.

Maybe.

Sam smiled at him as he poured the rest of the pitcher into Milo’s glass. Milo had moved his hand off his own wrist and instead was gripping the mug of creamy beverage like his life depended on it.

“Anytime,” Sam said.

And he meant it.

“Sorry I took the rest of your eggnog, though,” Milo said, smiling crookedly.

“Please,” Sam smirked, walking over to the fridge and opening a lower drawer within. “I’ve got plenty more.”

There were three additional containers of eggnog, frosty and ready to be served.

“Ex-Deputy Samuelson, you speak my language,” Milo said.

  
They sat on the couch until five o’clock in the morning, drinking eggnog and listening to quiet music.

During that time, Sam learned that Milo was twenty-eight-years old and worked waiting tables. He also liked oldies music.

Milo learned that Sam was a year older than him and working to become an EMT. He liked any and all music. Even opera.

Sam learned that Milo had a twin sister, and Milo learned Sam had an older brother and younger sister.

Sam invited Milo to holidays with his parents in Montana. He had been a little drunk at the time, but he had no regrets whatsoever.

Milo, on the other hand, had been _very_ drunk, and said yes. He _definitely_ felt no regrets.

When Milo finally passed out on the couch, Sam yawned and stretched his arms over his head. He grabbed a blanket and lightly tossed it onto Milo’s lap.

He stood up and started for his bedroom, but gave one more look at the peacefully sleeping form on the couch. He smiled softly.

“Goodnight, Milo.”

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**Author's Note:**

> TW for suicide attempt/suicidal thoughts  
> TW for self-harm  
> TW for self-deprecating thoughts  
> TW for alcohol abuse
> 
> Feel free to talk to me:
> 
> [Tumblr](https://itjammy.tumblr.com)  
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/softplaidpjs) 🔞


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